


Fountain of Youth

by ZinnyThomas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Memory Loss, Multi, Post-Canon, but draco isn't as much of an ass as everyone thought, draco is tired and bitter, especially draco, everyone is confused, everyone is surprised by this, harry is 8 and doesn't remember anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZinnyThomas/pseuds/ZinnyThomas
Summary: When a potions accident results in Harry regressing to his 8-year-old self with no knowledge of the wizarding world and he ends up latching onto Draco Malfoy—shit hits the fan.





	1. the BOY who lived

Draco Malfoy had seen his fair share of the strange and unusual. He’d seen terrible things (a lot of them) and beautiful things (less of those) but by far the most disconcerting thing he’d ever seen was right in front of him. It had been a normal day until Draco rounded the corridor and saw a small rumpled blur crash to the ground.

 

It appeared to be a child, much too young to be a Hogwarts student, and Draco approached him warily as he got back up, but froze when the figure came into view—standing in front of him was a pint-sized Harry Potter.

 

He looked to be about 8 years old, swimming in too big robes, mop of unruly black hair getting in his eyes that looked huge behind his now ill-fitting glasses. The scar on his forehead seemed bigger stretching across his small face. He was scowling at his robes and attempting to gather as much of the fabric in his tiny fists as he could, presumably so he could resume running.

 

There were a lot of things Draco could have said, and surely should have said, but all he could think as he stared at the Tiny Chosen One was:

 

“Your clothes are too big.”

 

Potter started, looking up so fast that his glasses fell off his face, though he didn’t move to pick them up. He hunched in on himself as if to appear smaller, cautiously looking at Draco but not responding. Draco took a slow step forward and picked up the glasses, held them out to Potter because really, the situation couldn’t get any more surreal.

 

Potter took them cautiously, blinking as he put them back on and could see properly. He stepped back from Draco but offered a mumbled, “Thanks.”

 

“What are you running from?” Draco asked, honestly curious, “You aren’t going to get far tripping over those,” He continued, gesturing at the robes pooled around Potter’s feet. “You look like an idiot.” He added by reflex. 

 

Potter was startled out of his caution by that insult and ignored the questions, “You look like an idiot too!” He exclaimed, “Who even wears robes?”

 

“You’re wearing a robe.” Draco deadpanned.

 

“Not by choice!” Tiny Potter hissed.

 

“What would you rather wear then?” Draco asked, idly wondering if he was dreaming.

 

“Normal clothes!” Potter harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco considered him and belatedly remembered that Potter had grown up muggleborn.

 

“You’re wearing m…Normal clothes under your robe,” Draco pointed out.

 

“They’re too big too.” Potter was doing something weird and scrunchy with his tiny face. Something that looked dangerously like the first step to tears. Draco attempted to figure out what to do.

 

Potter obviously had no idea who he was, otherwise he wouldn’t have spoken to Draco at all. He was also very obviously a young boy who was confused and disoriented. And his clothes didn’t fit. Draco frowned in irritation. If he abandoned Tiny Potter in the hallway the attitude of his peers would undoubtedly go from dismissive and hostile to disgusted and hateful. Plus, Potter was just standing there in his puddle of oversized clothes, looking quite pathetic and very different from the Perfect Golden Boy that Draco had been fighting with since first year. Plus Draco had a free period. He sighed and turned back around toward the Slytherin common room.

 

“If you come with me I’ll fix your clothes.”

 

He didn’t wait to see if Potter followed, but soon enough Draco heard a telltale shuffling behind him.

 

The Tiny Chosen One seemed to calm down the deeper they got into the cool castle, though for what reason Draco couldn’t tell. Potter had stopped staring at the ground and was looking around with curiosity, though his expression became subdued whenever he noticed Draco's scrutiny. They arrived at the right stretch of wall and Draco muttered “Teamwork” under his breath, glaring at the wall while it slid open. Potter followed him inside.

 

The common room was badly lit and blessedly empty. After a brief look at the wonder on Tiny Potter’s face as he appraised the glowing green lamps, Draco led him to the section of the hall that he and Blaise had drunkenly modified into a window. It let in a tiny amount of light from the murky lake above, and terrified first years. Draco liked it. He wasn’t sure it would stop any of them from developing vitamin D deficiencies—but Grindylows and Merfolk occasionally swam by, and Millicent swore she’d seen the Giant Squid one late night.

 

Draco left Potter pressed curiously against the window and headed to his room. He pulled his least favorite pair of trousers out and shrank them to what he thought would fit weird-small-Potter. As he searched for a shirt Draco considered the situation. Somehow Potter had been reduced to his 8-year-old body and mental state. The Gryffindors had potions around the time that Draco had found him, so obviously something had happened. But Draco had never heard of a potion that reversed age like this, and couldn’t think of a reason anyone would have poisoned The Boy Who Lived, for all that he was literally a boy now.

 

Draco sighed. He couldn’t find any shirts he didn’t like. He glared at nothing in particular and grabbed a soft sweater his Mother had sent him, shrinking it before he could change his mind and leaving the room. When he got back into the hall where Tiny Potter stood he was surprised to see that a small crowd of Merfolk had gathered on the other side of the glass, watching Potter laugh as they flipped through the water, holding up colorful rocks from the lake bed that he delighted in. He’d been in the Slytherin dorms for two minutes and already had a devoted group of fans. Fish fans. Draco sighed again.

 

Potter looked up as he approached, smiling slightly and gesturing at the Merfolk with his robe-swallowed hands.

 

“Look! Did you know Mermaids were real? And Mermen too I guess,” Potter considered the creatures, pressed up against the glass again. “Dudley would never believe me; do you have a camera?” Draco did not have a camera.

 

“Go put these on, my free period is almost over.” Not that he had anything afterwards. Potter turned back and noticed the clothes, grabbing them with delight, and followed Draco’s finger to the bathroom entrance. He skipped off, only tripping once. Draco frowned at the Merfolk, who frowned back, swimming away haughtily now that their tiny charge was out of sight. The initial problem of ill-fitting clothes was solved, Draco figured he probably had to return Tiny Potter to his friends or some sort of authority, as they were probably looking for him.

 

Draco didn’t notice Potter’s return until there was a tug at his sleeve, he looked down in annoyance. The pants seemed to fit fine, the sweater was a little too big but Draco thought that would be best to keep him warm. The young wizard was holding onto the edge of the sweater sleeves now that he’d let go of Draco.

 

“Thank you,” He said quietly, darting a look at Draco and then quickly looking out the lake window, “What’s your name?”

 

Draco considered him for a second before answering cautiously, “Draco Malfoy.”

 

Potter scrunched up his nose, respect forgotten in the face of his confusion.

 

“What kind of name is _Draco_?” He asked, mouth moving weirdly around the unfamiliar syllables.

 

“My name, are you making fun of me?” Draco almost smirked at the look of contrite embarrassment that crossed Tiny Potter’s face, it was an expression he’d never seen on the other in all the years they’d known each-other.

 

“No!” Tiny Potter exclaimed hastily, waving his sweater covered hands in the air as if to physically clear up the misunderstanding, dropping his bundle of robes in the process. “I’ve just never heard that name before!”

 

Draco snorted and picked the clothes up off the floor, leading the way back towards his room. Potter followed, embarrassment forgotten and replaced by curiosity as they entered. Draco supposed his room would look strange to a muggleborn new to the wizarding world; ancient tomes lined his desk, potion ingredients scattered the window sill, a cauldron bubbled by the small fireplace (a potion he was making for Pansy), and glowing stones were strung up around his bed (extra warding against unfriendly visitors). There was also a Probity Probe, Secrecy Sensor, and Sneakoscope on his bedside table, all sent by his paranoid mother

 

Tiny Potter was at the desk, picking up a quill, his face wrinkled in confusion.

 

“Why would you write with a feather?” He was looking at Draco’s unfinished arithmancy paper. “These are so old fashioned.”

 

“That one corrects spelling mistakes.” Draco explained in a bored tone. Potter didn’t reply to that, just huffed as if to say, ‘ _yeah right_ ’, and turned around.

 

“Where did the robe go?” He asked in confusion, looking around where Draco had put the clothes down.

 

“House-elves do the laundry,” Draco explained impatiently, “We have to take you back now—come on.”

 

“What are house elves? Where are we going?” Potter continued to ask as they left the room.

 

“House elves are servants, they keep places clean and do all the cooking,” Knowing Potter wouldn’t be satisfied with that Draco was quick to answer his next question, “Got to take you back to your golden friends.” They exited the common room, Potter jumping a bit when the stone wall slid closed behind them, but quickly caught up with Draco down the hall.

 

“Who are my friends?” He asked, sounding weirdly breathless, Draco looked down at his astonished face. “The ones from earlier?” He questioned, Draco assumed he meant potions.

 

“The annoyingly tall red-head and frizzy-haired genius?” Draco internally winced when he realized what he’d called Granger. “Yes, those are your devoted followers.”

 

Tiny Potter didn’t seem perturbed by Draco’s description, but after a moment of deliberation he looked down.

 

“I ran away from them…” He said, sounding guilty, glasses sliding down his nose again. “They probably hate me now...”

 

“You’ve done a lot worse,” Draco responded after a moment, steadfastly looking forward as he led Potter to the Great Hall. “They’ve stayed with you this long, I don’t doubt they’ll stay with you now.” Potter didn’t say anything, but he looked appeased when Draco glanced at him, flushed happily and walking with a bit of a bounce in his step. Draco heard him murmur the word ‘ _friends_ ’ under his breath and had to look away from the open wonderment on his face.

 

The Great Hall was already full of students for the evening meal. No one looked up at Draco until he was farther in and Tiny Potter could be seen behind his tall frame and billowing robes. Hushed whispers could be heard from the tables they passed but Draco ignored them until he reached the Gryffindors.

 

“Maybe he went outside? You don’t think he left campus—”

 

“’Mione the staff is looking for him he’ll be _fine_.”

 

“Ron he’s a child—!” Granger cut off as Thomas nudged her and everyone that hadn’t already spotted Draco looked up as one. She regarded him with a cautious, bemused expression.

 

“Malfoy? What are—?” She cut off as Tiny Potter peered out from behind Draco, looking contrite behind his huge glasses.

 

“Harry!” She exclaimed, jumping up with Weasely behind her. The two rushed over and a few other Gryffindors stood up, the hall quieting as everyone’s eyes turned to their table.

 

Draco stood off to the side, unable to leave because of Potter’s hand holding onto the edge of his robes, working hard to look completely indifferent.

 

“Where have you been!” Hermione asked, “Where did you get those clothes? Someone needs to tell the headmaster.” She said over her shoulder, and Finnigan left hastily, presumably in search of Mcgonagall.

 

“I was with Draco…” Potter said nervously, fidgeting under the attention of so many people, and Hermione and the crowd turned suspicious eyes on Draco. He stared back blankly.

 

“Malfoy what did you—”

 

“I’ve returned your Golden ‘Child’,” Draco cut Weasely off evenly. The Gryffindors crowded closer to Potter—keeping him safe from the Big Bad Death Eater, Draco could have laughed. “Be careful not to lose him again.” Pulling his robe out from Potter’s loosened grip, Draco turned around and made to leave.

 

Potter stumbled after him, reaching a hand out, but was quickly surrounded by his friends, and Draco left the hall as quickly as he could.


	2. fried tomatoes

Draco didn’t know what he’d been expecting—but it wasn’t this. After storming ( _dramatically,_ Pansy would chastise him later, when she’d cornered him in his room for details) out of the Great Hall, Draco had returned to the Slytherin dorm.

 

He’d eaten chocolates from his mother and sat at his desk, ignoring his arithmancy essay in favor of thinking about the events of the afternoon. It had been strange, but not completely unprecedented, what happened to Potter. What was unprecedented was the fact that Draco had helped him, and the fact that Tiny Potter had called him by Draco, and had been annoying but… Not unpleasant? As not-unpleasant as Draco imagined 8-year-olds could be?

 

Draco had sat at his desk, contemplating everything in annoyance, and after his interrogation from Pansy (and Blaise, and Millicent, and fucking _Knot_ ) he’d charmed his door locked and gone to bed.

 

But apparently he hadn’t washed his hands of the situation properly, because at breakfast the next day he was accosted by an angry Granger.

 

She strode up to the Slytherin table, multiple eyes on her, and sat huffily across from Draco, and berated him. As if that was a completely normal thing.

 

“I can’t believe you just _left_ like that,” She opened with, glaring at him and his forkful of fried tomato, “Harry was inconsolable!”

 

There wasn’t really anything to say to that. So Draco didn’t. Luckily for both of them, Granger wasn’t finished.

 

“And to not notify anyone when you found him! He was gone with you for almost an hour, we were absolutely terrified!” As if to illustrate her point, Granger waved madly in the air. Draco was not terrified by this, but the sentiment got across.

 

“I suppose it was…” She grimaced then, as if unhappy to be saying what she was saying, “ _Good_ of you to calm him down and get him proper clothes…” She trailed off for a moment. Draco put down his bite of tomato.

 

“Where did you get those anyway? Clothes in his size?” Granger seemed momentarily distracted from her anger, and as if she actually wanted him to answer.

 

“They’re mine. I transfigured them.” Draco responded duly, as if it should have been obvious. “Variation of the Multicorfors spell.”

 

Granger blinked at that, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her (probably a rare occurrence) and then proceeded to look more surprised, as if the idea of Draco performing any sort of kind act was shocking to her (it probably was).

 

“Well um… Thank… you I—” But Granger was cut off as at that moment Tiny Potter ran up to the table next to Draco.

 

“Hello!” He greeted cheerfully, Weasely, who had presumably entered with him, eyed the Slytherins seated (especially Draco) wearily, but sat down next to Granger after a moment’s hesitation.

 

Draco turned to face Tiny Potter. He was still wearing the clothes Draco had given him, though the sweater looked washed, so he must have slept in something else.

 

“Hello.” Draco replied formally, face perfectly neutral save for a delicately raised eyebrow.

 

“Ron and ‘Mione didn’t think we should sit with you but I convinced them.” Potter said conversationally, clambering onto the bench next to Draco. He looked even smaller than his not-normally-but-currently-the-norm self.

 

Draco wasn’t surprised by this explanation as to their presence at his table. He shot the two normally sized Gryffindors a bored look, to which Granger looked slightly guilty and Ron stared at Harry with a pained expression.

 

Potter was occupying himself with pouring a glass of juice. The pitcher was too big for his small hand and he was trying very hard not to spill. Draco placed his own steady hand at the base of the pitcher without comment until Potter had finished.

 

With a grateful look in his direction, Tiny Potter drank his juice. The proceeding silence during the drinking of said juice was very awkward. Draco stifled a sigh.

 

When finished with his juice Potter required a full plate of breakfast foods, a description of how the food delivery worked, and a better explanation about the function of house elves than he’d been given by Draco the day before (which Granger provided quite willingly).

 

Potter took all of it quite well. He deliberated Granger’s information thoughtfully, chewing on a piece of bacon.

 

“I wish I had a house elf.” He mumbled after the bacon was gone, looking at his plate with a slight frown. Granger looked devastated by this, which surprised no one.

 

“Harry! They’re basically slaves! What could you do with a slave?” She sounded equal parts bewildered and perturbed.

 

“Not for… Well I wouldn’t…” Potter glared at his potatoes. “For the cooking and cleaning! Just… If they wanted to, so I could play outside instead of doing all the chores…”

 

It sounded like the type of typically selfish thing any typical 8-year-old might say, and Granger looked ready to comment just that, but Weasely elbowed her and gave her a significant look.

 

“Couldn’t your cousin help you with that Harry?” He asked in a cautious tone, hand still on Granger’s arm.

 

Potter looked annoyed at the mention of his cousin (Draco presumed this must be Dudley, the muggle boy Tiny Potter had talked about the day before).

 

“No.” He said with a scowl, glaring heatedly at his plate where his potatoes had just been, “ _Ickle Dudleykins_ is too _important_ for chores, a _free-loader_ like me has to pay his dues.”

 

Potter said free-loader in the typical tone of a child who does not know the meaning of word but resents it regardless. Draco, Granger, and Weasely, who did know the meaning of the word, exchanged looks. Well. Granger and Weasely exchanged a look and Draco saw them exchanging this look, but the reaction was shared.

 

No one knew what to say to that, but luckily the headmistress took that time to call everyone’s attention. When the hall quieted she spoke.

 

“Good morning students, as many of you already know there was an accident yesterday during the 8th year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff potions class.” While they had been sitting in the relative obscurity of a mostly unoccupied Slytherin table, everyone who hadn’t turned to look at Draco, Tiny Potter, and his followers—did now.

 

“I am sure all of you are acquainted with Mr. Potter and heard of yesterday’s incident, it is being dealt with but for now we ask all of you to please refrain from sharing details with anyone outside of the school.” Mcgonagall eyed the room impassively.

 

“It is Mr. Potter’s personal business, and should any press hear of this it could cause unpleasantness for him,” She continued, “The staff and myself are in the process of reversing his condition and returning him to rights, but out of respect for him we must ask that you keep this to yourselves.” Draco glanced down at Tine Potter. He was hunched in on himself, face flushed under his mop of hair, hands shoved in his lap and shoulders low. He did not seem to enjoy being the center of attention.

 

“Outgoing owl post has been suspended for the next few days, if any of you have questions or information regarding Mr. Potter’s situation, I ask that you contact any member of the staff.”

 

That seemed to finish her speech, and the hall slowly got louder as students resumed their conversation. Tiny Potter appeared to have lost his appetite. Draco, who had not eaten since he was initially interrupted, was done as well.

 

“I’m leaving.” Draco announced to the table at large, wiping his hands off delicately on his napkin and moving to stand.

 

Potter looked up at him, around the crowded room, and back. “Can I come with you?” He asked, voice unexpectedly soft, as if afraid of drawing attention back on himself again.

 

Draco frowned. He needed to work on his arithmancy essay, Potter would undoubtedly distract from that. But Potter looked so visibly uncomfortable, and he really hadn’t eaten that much breakfast, and Ron was gaping at Potter for asking while Granger glared at Draco as if she could bully him into agreeing. Draco sighed and stood up. Today couldn’t be any stranger than yesterday, and saying no to Tiny Potter was more difficult than he’d care to admit.

 

“Come on then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure frequent updates of short chapters is better than infrequent updates of long chapters?   
> I'll probably compile it all when I'm finished though. 
> 
> Thanks for reading I hope you've enjoyed—drop a comment and let me know what you think!


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